


Where There's a Will, There's a Way

by Severina



Category: Young Riders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-03
Updated: 2003-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buck and Elizabeth try to find a way out of their dilemma.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where There's a Will, There's a Way

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "Something Wonderful" and "Wonderland"

Buck dropped effortlessly from the wagon before hastening to the other side to hold out his hand to Elizabeth, slightly gratified to feel that his wife's palm was as clammy as his own. Only when he was assured that Elizabeth was safely ensconced on the boardwalk and away from the bustling traffic of Sweetwater's main street did he turn back, unloading the covered basket from the wagon bed and setting it at their feet.

"How do I look?"

Buck grinned, watching as Elizabeth nervously pushed an errant strand of blonde hair behind her ear before tugging at her waistband. She bent to smooth away an unnoticeable wrinkle in her skirt, using the movement to surreptitiously swipe away the tell-tale moisture on her hand. Yup, Buck mused, she was as nervous as he was.

"You look beautiful," Buck reassured her when she again stood facing him.

"You'd say that if I was wearing a potato sack and covered in ashes," she scolded.

"Of course I would," Buck intoned solemnly. "Because it would be true."

Ignoring the eye-roll his statement earned him, Buck leaned in to press a kiss against her cheek. He also tried to ignore the uneasy flip-flop his stomach was doing, but that feat was much easier to contemplate than to actually accomplish. The one thought that eased his mind was that Elizabeth had no idea how troubled he still felt about their financial predicament, plans to rectify the situation notwithstanding. And she would never know, if he had anything to say about it. To that end, Buck braced himself internally before facing his wife with a self-assured smile that bordered on cocky.

"It shouldn't take me more than a couple of hours," he reminded her as he retook his place in the wagon. "I'll meet you outside the auxiliary."

He started the team as she waved a good-bye. When he turned the wagon toward the outskirts of town, she was still standing at the edge of the road, watching him.  


* * * * *

It was only when the wagon faded into the distance that Elizabeth roused herself and bent to gather the basket into her arms. She took a deep breath, determined to banish all thoughts of self-doubt. If Buck had complete confidence in their plan, why shouldn't she? Without a backward glance, Elizabeth squared her shoulders and stepped through the batwing doors into the hotel.

The first word that came to mind whenever Elizabeth had occasion to visit the revamped, revitalized Sweetwater Hotel was "ostentatious". Perhaps because she had been raised in what most people would consider luxury, her sensibilities always felt slightly affronted when faced with the gilt edged counters, the gaudy red and yellow window dressings, and the overabundance of tassels, bows, gold trimmings and cherubic statuary that graced the front lobby. The new owners of the Sweetwater Hotel apparently didn't know the meaning of the word "overkill".

Most of their patrons didn't, either. The lobby and adjoining dining room was bustling with women appointed in the latest Parisian fashions, holding court while their husbands and sons brokered deals in the upstairs rooms. Elizabeth shook her head as she made her way to the front desk, again astounded by the changes wrought in the settlement since she'd married Buck and joined the Sweetwater community. The little backwater town had grown up.

"May I help you, madam?"

Elizabeth started at the voice, slightly embarrassed to be caught gawking around the lobby instead of paying attention. She lifted her head to see a haughty older gentleman studying her in much the same fashion as a * vulture * would assess its prey. Grey eyes swept over her outfit, several seasons out of date, with barely disguised disdain.

Ignoring the disapproval evident in the man's look, Elizabeth plastered a smile on her face. "You most certainly can. I'm here to see Madame DuBois."

The gentleman's harsh expression didn't waver. "I see. And do you have an appointment?"

"Simply tell Madame that Mrs. Cross is here to discuss an important matter."

"I'm sorry, madam, but that will be * impossible *. Madame DuBois is unavailable without an appointment." With another scornful glance, the man returned to his ledger.

Elizabeth frowned. "Excuse me."

The clerk looked back up, a long-suffering expression on his face. "Madam?"

"Perhaps you could tell Madame DuBois that this is a pressing matter."

The clerk sighed. "As I've explained, Madame Dubois sees no-one without an appointment."

He had again turned his attention to his volume when Elizabeth leaned forward. "Very well. When is she next available?"

Consulting the ledger as though the very act caused him physical pain, the clerk made a point of labouring over the text before raising cool eyes to hers. "A week Thursday. Shall I pencil you in?"

"A week!" Elizabeth huffed impatiently, mentally reminding herself that slapping the self-important little fool would accomplish nothing. A tongue lashing... that was more tempting, but would also ultimately not aid their plan. Taking a deep breath, she smiled grimly at the clerk. "Thank you, but no." Tucking her basket more firmly under her arm, Elizabeth swept from the hotel with as much dignity as she could muster.  


* * * * *

"So you see, Mr. O'Connell, I could really use the extra work."

Buck forced himself not to shuffle his feet in the dirt as the eyes of the older man grazed him appraisingly. His hands, clenching his hat so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, were the only indication of his anxiety.

"I be understandin' ye just right, boy," O'Connell finally spoke. "And by all accounts, ye be a fine lad, hard-workin' and reliable as sunrise and sunset."

Buck arched a brow, amused despite himself. By all accounts? Obviously Liam O'Connell had never talked to William Tompkins.

"And ye have * impeccable * timin', lad. 'Tis harvestin' next week, and the crops will be needin' to come in fast. Therein lies my concern, ye see. There'll be no time for lollygatherin' and no time for distractions."

"I know how to apply myself, Mr. O'Connell."

"Aye," the older man nodded, "but ye also have your own ranch to be takin' care of. I can't have ye runnin' off to deal with CrossRoads and leavin' me in the lurch."

Buck drew himself up straight. "I understand your concern. All I can do is promise you that I take my commitments seriously. I'm not going to lie to you, Mr. O'Connell. I need the extra income right now, and I'm willing to put in the time and effort here to earn it. CrossRoads is my concern, and it will never become yours."

Sharp green eyes evaluated him again. Then the older man's hand thrust forward. "Ye can start on Monday."

A relieved smile lighting his features, Buck eagerly shook on it.  


* * * * *

Elizabeth closed her eyes and mentally sent forth a prayer before swinging back her arm.

"One..." she breathed softly. "Two... THREE!"

With a mighty heave, she sent her basket soaring purposefully toward the upper balcony, almost not daring to follow its path with her eyes. To her immense relief, the basket cleared the railing and landed safely, tipping only once before resettling on its bottom. If only, she mused, she could sail through the air as easily. Casting a furtive glance around her, Elizabeth ensured that the back alley was clear of prying eyes before hoisting her skirts and embarking on the climb that would reunite her with her basket.

Ten minutes later, she fumbled her way over the railing, breathing heavily and cursing voluminous skirts, petticoats, sunshine, perspiration and, perhaps most vigorously of all, pompous desk clerks with delusions of grandeur.

Pressing her back against the wall, she hastily adjusted her clothing before striding toward the double-doors leading from the long balcony into a second floor suite, a triumphant smile aglow on her lips. Can't see Madame DuBois without an appointment? Well, she smirked, we'll just see about that.  


* * * * *

Buck had barely jumped down from the wagon before Elizabeth was in his embrace, her arms wrapped tightly around his middle and her face upturned for a kiss. He happily obliged, capturing her lips in a lingering kiss that was sure to have the ladies watching from inside the auxiliary tittering for days.

He finally drew back to regard her with twinkling eyes. "I take it everything went well for you?"

"Wellllllll, after my initial setback."

Buck arched a brow, and Elizabeth laughed joyfully. "You really don't want to know."

"Bethie--"

"Suffice to say, I will now be providing the culinary delights on the dessert table at the Sweetwater Hotel." She pressed her lips to his again quickly before pulling back to look into his eyes. "And how about you?"

"You're looking at the newest hand at the O'Connell farm."

"Oh, Buck, that's wonderful." She allowed him to hand her into the wagon, settling in the seat and watching him as he retook his own place. "We're going to do it, Buck. We have an entire month. We're going to raise the money and save the ranch."

Buck returned her smile with a confidence he didn't feel as he lifted the reins, setting the wagon in motion. The ranch was more than his livelihood; it had been his dream. A dream he had never dared to share with anyone, not even Ike. Property to call his own, a roof above his head, and a woman to share it with. That was all he had ever wanted.

He couldn't help but feel that he was being punished.

That... perhaps... Teaspoon had been right all those years ago, when he warned that killing Neville would set him on a path to ruination.

That... perhaps... the spirits were angry that he had turned away from the traditions of his people in order to join the white world.

That... perhaps... he had taken too much pride in his accomplishments, and was now paying the price.

"Buck?"

Buck shook his head, turning to look into the concerned eyes of his wife. He clasped the hand that had reached out for his, lifting it to his lips. Elizabeth had faith. Faith in him. Faith in them.

He would have faith, too.


End file.
